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you cracked open my chest
and inscribed love letters on the veins in my heart
they surged throughout my system
charging me with an electric lavender hum
I bled your poetry.
when you left,
I cracked open my own chest,
in desperate fleeting hope of finding the words that once made me feel so undefeatably beautiful;
instead,
I found every single love letter you inked in me
stamped with
return to sender.
I thought you left me last December but it turns out you left me the day you cracked me open;
I was just a storage place for you
a hollowed out empty chest
a place for you to set your pretty
meaningless
words.
I don't trust anyone
who sounds like poetry
anymore.
we used to taste like eachother; now you taste like a swift punch
I taste like b l o o d. I guess in a way we still go together, but we are not the same.

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when all else failed, i began to look for a god either i didn't look hard enough, or whoever, or whatever, it was didn't want me to find them; somewhere along the way i found you; you tasted like an angel, like stardust and miracles- perhaps that's why all my prayers taste like you.
if heaven is real, it is the way you hold me
sometimes I wanna wrap my car around a tree; â¨maybe because â¨itâs the closest thing to your tight embraceâ¨that Iâll be able to get â¨in this hauntingly empty haze, â¨the kind that is so strangely thick that you can feel it â¨pressingâ¨your shoulders down,â¨down,â¨down, â¨trying to sink your heels beneath the concrete,â¨down to the dirt and the worms.
itâs the kind â¨that presses so hard you feel you may just shatter;â¨like the windshield of my car wouldâ¨upon the force of impact; the shards would rain down and resound like the thunderstorms that grow behind the left side of my temple â¨poundingâ¨rumblingâ¨roaringâ¨demanding attention.
somehow, underneath this
r o a r i n g I think of you I think about how we used to taste like eachother; but now you taste like a swift punch. I taste like blood. I guess in a way we still go together, but we are not the same. as the glass falls i will find myself thinking of the spectacle in the same way those who came after you found me beautiful;â¨in a broken, shimmering kind of way,â¨the kind that lifts you up â¨and upâ¨and upâ¨until you hold on too tightlyâ¨and suddenly youâre bleeding,
and cursing my name and slamming doors and asking yourself
why
you ever felt so drawn to such a deceptive beautyâ¨though,â¨like glass,â¨I was always transparent. â¨
I guess it was wrong of me to think youâd know;â¨
I guess I just assumed
because you always looked right through me.
you never saw me when I was right in front of you, maybe you'll finally see me on the news when they report the crash
i spend time with my family, you donât text me. i pretend Iâm not checking my phone for your name. i swallow back the tears pretend I donât mind that thereâs no trace of you trying to contact me. i go for a drive, and pretend i donât know how to get to your house from any part of this damn city; sunbleached asphalt paves the road to you. i keep my eyes on the road and try to find ways to make things look like what they are, rather than looking like you; the city spot up the street from my best friends house tastes like your skin and smells like your conditioner. i drive home from work, and pretend it doesnât hurt when you arenât there waiting for me; i avoid calling it home, because you always told me i was your home, and without you, my chest is an abandoned living room, couches covered in white sheets, layered with dust; stifling. i lie alone in bed, and pretend Iâm not wishing for your warmth. i still sleep wrapped in the blanket you gave me. i donât try to pretend that there is even a single version of my future without you; i pretend that the tears I shed are raindrops; if thatâs so, every night is a rainstorm.
how do you say âI love you, I miss you, come homeâ without sounding pathetic?